It should've been a touching moment.
Three summoned heroes. United by fate. Standing before the city gates with fire in our hearts and matching cloaks.
Instead, Ren Arashi and Kuroblade Nightshade were arguing over a map.
Again.
"This leyline fracture leads to the outer ridge," Kuroblade muttered, tapping the page like it had wronged him. "If we follow the shadow path, we may yet reach the origin of the decay."
Ren folded his arms, radiating offended sunshine. "And abandon the cries of the oppressed in the west? What of the refugees who need hope—who need me?"
"Let them hope somewhere less tactically irrelevant."
"I bring courage!"
"You bring vocal damage."
Off to the side, Iria stood at attention like she wasn't losing sanity. Velis and Silas were placing bets under their breath. I just rubbed my face and prepared to make the same speech I'd already made five times this month.
But then something incredible happened.
They agreed to disagree.
With excessive drama, of course.
Ren clasped Kuroblade's shoulder. "Perhaps the world calls to us from two paths."
Kuroblade returned the gesture like he was passing off a curse. "Perhaps entropy demands we fracture."
They bowed.
Then walked in opposite directions.
So that left us.
Back to the original party. With one dramatic knight, one academic arsonist, one feral raccoon of a rogue, and me.
We stood in silence for a beat.
Then Silas clapped his hands. "Well. That's out of the way. Shall we finally go somewhere quiet and sane?"
Velis raised an eyebrow. "So not following Kaname, then?"
"Touché."
We headed northeast, away from the capital's final ring, beyond the outer farmland and forgotten shrine roads. There were no inns past that line. No maps worth trusting. Just whispers of old magic and ancient woods that didn't take kindly to humans.
Iria was excited.
Velis was cautious.
Silas was singing a song about mushrooms and lawsuits.
I was mostly wondering if I should start collecting bandages like stamps.
The trees got denser. The sunlight dimmed. The wind carried a sound like breathing through leaves. At some point, the birds stopped singing.
"Feel that?" Velis said.
I nodded. "Yeah. Like the trees are watching."
"No. Like they're deciding."
We didn't make camp.
We didn't need to.
Because about an hour before sunset, the ground exploded.
Well—technically, a goblin trap triggered and launched Iria into a tree, followed by an ogre roaring out of the brush with a club the size of my dignity.
The fight wasn't elegant.
Iria tanked the first strike, barely rolling out of the way before the club cratered the ground.
Silas flipped backward into a branch, threw three daggers, hit two goblins and one pinecone.
Velis ignited a tree on purpose. That one was technically helpful.
I tried to climb a rock. I slipped, fell on a goblin, and knocked it out with my spine.
But there were too many of them.
The ogre had some kind of enchanted hide, resistant to Velis's first three spells.
The goblins were coordinated—too coordinated. They moved like they'd trained for this, darting in and out of cover, using distraction tactics, and trying to separate us.
Iria cut through five. Then took a hit to the shoulder and dropped to a knee.
Velis's left hand was bleeding—glyph backlash.
Silas was limping and swearing at a broken knife.
I had a headache and was trying not to throw up.
And then...
Light.
A flare of green-gold magic swept through the clearing like a wind made of sunlight.
The goblins screeched and turned to flee. The ogre hesitated—and a second later, a bolt of searing natural energy hit it square in the chest.
It staggered.
Another flash.
It fell.
Silence followed.
From between two trees stepped a figure.
Short, pale-pink hair pulled back in a clip. Robes stained from travel. A satchel stuffed with vials, herbs, and scowls.
She looked at us like we were a disappointing group project.
"Seriously?" she said. "You almost got killed by forest trash."
I opened my mouth.
She raised a finger. "No. Don't speak. I can see the poor decisions."
Iria tried to sit up straighter. "We are grateful for your intervention."
"You're also concussed. Don't get noble on me."
Velis groaned from behind a bush. "What... was that magic?"
"Nature attunement. High-tier healing. You're welcome."
Silas blinked. "You saved us."
Lyra snorted. "I saved the trees from cleaning up your corpses."
She pointed at Iria. "You're bleeding."
"I've suffered worse."
"Well, now you're suffering me. Lie down."
We were too hurt to argue.
Lyra patched us up in near silence, muttering insults like they were incantations.
Iria got a poultice that smelled like swamp fire.
Velis got a numbing salve that nearly burned through her gloves.
Silas got slapped for trying to flirt mid-stitch.
I got... extra herbs. No explanation.
When we were finally upright again, I asked the obvious question.
"Who are you?"
"Lyra Caelwyn," she said. "Local healer. Temporary guide. Reluctant savior of idiots."
"Do you live out here?"
"I work with the elven border wardens. We have an actual plan to protect the forest. You people just throw fire at everything and hope."
Velis coughed. "That's not entirely—"
"Three trees are still burning," Lyra said, pointing.
Velis closed her mouth.
We offered to leave the next morning.
Lyra didn't let us.
"I saw the way you fought," she said. "You'd die before breakfast."
"We survived this long," I said.
She stared at me like I'd said I breathe through my knees.
"Let me rephrase. I'm coming with you. Not because I want to. Because I have a professional obligation not to let people this incompetent bleed out on my doorstep."
"So you care," Silas said.
She turned scarlet. "I care about not burying bodies. Especially loud ones."
Velis raised an eyebrow. "What if we pay you?"
"Don't insult me."
"What if we don't pay you?"
Lyra sighed. "Fine. I'll take a cut of loot. And field autonomy. And no weird jokes about 'healing hands.'"
Everyone looked at Silas.
"What?" he said. "I'm very respectful."
Lyra slapped a bandage on his face without warning.
And just like that, we weren't four anymore.
We were five.
One knight, one scholar, one rogue, one anomaly—
And one very, very reluctant healer.